


H is for Home

by chileancarmenere



Series: Alistair Alphabet [8]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-05
Updated: 2012-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 16:25:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chileancarmenere/pseuds/chileancarmenere





	H is for Home

He’s perfectly, idyllically happy. There might be something out there that makes him happier, but he doubts it.

Kaillian makes a perfect mother. The one thing that he regrets about their children is that they look like him, rather than her. He thinks that his daughter might resent his long nose sometime in the future. But for now, he’s just fine with sitting on the front porch of their home and watching the two of them tear through the meadow, playing tag.

Ever since he almost burned down the house when he forgot about the soup, Kaillian’s insisted that he doesn’t cook any more. Instead, he chops the firewood for the oven and cleans the dishes. She’s an excellent cook; it seems like she can make anything taste good. Even the kids, who are notoriously picky when they dine with friends, eat what she makes.

Without a doubt, though, the best time of the day is just after they’ve put the children to bed, and they curl up in front of the fire together. Kaillian rests her head on his chest, with his arm around her shoulders, and they whisper intimately to each other. The ridiculous dress their neighbor wore at a party, their son’s loose tooth, plans for a trip to Orlais. When they cuddle like this, he feels secure, safe and proud. This is what he has always wanted.

Alistair is berry picking with the kids when it happens. The world shifts suddenly; he knows it by a twist in his senses, as though he had tasted the color red. Immediately he gathers his son and daughter protectively to himself, but the world is stretching and peeling away, and no matter how desperately he tries, his grasp on his children becomes tenuous. They melt away, like mist at dawn, and the world dissolves around him.

“…Alistair? Alistair, Maker, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me…” Someone is slapping his face. A blurry figure above him comes into focus.

“Kaillian?” His tongue is thick and fuzzy.

Her face is streaked with tears and blood. “Thank the Maker!” She leans down and kisses him on the forehead, holding his head between her hands in a vice-like grip. “I thought you were dead.”

“Wha…what happened?” He tries to rise, but Wynne pushes him down firmly. “A desire demon had you. We had to knock you out before we could deal with the demon, so you’ve got a nasty bump on your head. Lie still and let me take care of it.”

Alistair lies back obediently, still stunned. Kaillian throws herself across his chest, hugging him tightly. “I thought I’d killed you. I couldn’t live with that.”

He kisses the top of her head absently, suddenly devoutly thankful that she’s a rogue and not a blood mage that could read his thoughts. He’s torn between shame that he thought about her so, and fierce longing for the scene that evaporated in front of his eyes. It is the first time he has ever been in the thrall of a desire demon, and now he sees why all the templars feared them so much.


End file.
